Unless a grain of wheat

A27A196F-2344-4077-AD81-B30FEA9DBD01.jpegIn the dark soil I wait. It is silent here.

For the longest time I dreamed of sunlight. I remembered the gentle kiss of the breeze.

Before I fell.

Now I am blind. Hidden here, waiting.

There were days I wished it sooner. I wept in frustration, put my mind to the task. I will grow! I can do this thing! Onwards!

Nothing happened.

A millipede wriggled past; an earthworm gliding. The soil grows very cold and I retreat deep into my shell.

Time.

No time.

Pause.

And silence.

What will it be like, that crack, splitting me in two? No longer myself as roots and shoots emerge.

Will I remember the darkness when I return to the sun?

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